by Kacey Ezell
Watch. Find a way.
So she stood up on her back feet, stretching her spine as tall as she could. A memory of old tales told by her Human molly teased at her, and on impulse, she lifted her drinking bowl in her forepaws.
“My friends and family,” she said, pitching her voice to carry through the room. “I invite you to take part in an ancient ritual from a faraway land. Drink with me now, to the ascendancy of the Night Wind Clan.”
“To the Clan!” Blade answered, his eyes intent on hers. He would recognize the origin of the ritual, at least. As would Flame, probably.
“To the Night Wind Clan,” Flame answered, quieter as always. The two of them lifted their own bowls, and one by one, the retainers and contractors of the clan did the same. Lastly, Reow lifted her own bowl and nodded her approval to Death as they all drank in unison.
After that, the feast began in earnest. Though they’d had a feast scarcely a ninenight ago, the clan’s staff had still managed to create another wonderful panoply of dishes and delights. This feast was larger, too, since all of the retainers and contractors had been invited to hear Reow’s announcement.
Mhrand, seated beside her, made it his personal mission to see that Death was given the best parts of every dish presented. She appreciated it, and him, but his solicitousness did nothing to stave off the grinding fatigue…or the growing nausea that started about halfway through.
“My love,” he asked at one point, turning to look at her with his ears cocked forward in concern. “Are you well?”
“It is the pregnancy sickness again,” she said in a low tone for his ears only. “But I fear I should not leave. This is an important night for the clan, and my departure may be seen as weakness or insult. Neither is a good option.”
“No, but…”
“Please, love. I will handle it. Just…let me be.”
She took care not to let her tone snap as she said it, but he recoiled in hurt anyway. Death fought the urge to sigh and simply turned back to the assembled clan. She focused, as Jhora had told her, on keeping her breathing steady and even, and tried to distract herself with conversation. Meanwhile, Mhrand sat in a discontented lump at her side.
Well. One problem at a time. She’d finish this meal, then smooth things out with him. Emotions were running high all around with Reow’s announcement. He would forgive her shortness. Because he loved her.
She looked up to see Reow regarding her closely. She slow blinked at her mother, trying to reassure her that all was well. Reow didn’t return the expression. Instead, she merely watched her eldest daughter and heir, and the Hunter she’d chosen to love. Death opened her mouth to say something, but the nausea rose within her at that exact moment, and she was forced to close her eyes and breathe. Breathe it down and away, lest she disgrace herself in front of the clan she was supposed to be leading.
Again, she drew the air in and forced her mind and body back toward calm. Calm enough to open her eyes, at least. Calm enough to laugh and talk lightly with her siblings and the contractors lounging nearby, while the serving bots brought in dish after dish of spiced delicacies and food that would normally be quite appetizing, but tonight…
No. Breathe. Slowly. She forced herself through the calming exercise again, and yet again. Until finally the dinner was over, and she could drag her fatigue-frayed self to bed. She’d thought to speak to Mhrand, but he laid himself down without a word and slept, and she was just too tired to push.
So, Death laid herself beside him and fell into sleep, knowing that when the sun set the following evening, her dama would be gone, and she would be left to stand on her own.
* * * * *
Cataclysm
All went relatively smoothly for Death for the first ninenight.
Reow departed the first evening. In contrast with the large feast the night before, she’d wanted only her offspring and Susa to see her off on the ridge. Mhrand had come, too, of course, walking shoulder to shoulder with Death after they made up from their spat the night before. He pressed against her as they wished Reow well, and then again as they stood back from the ridge and watched her ship burn its way into the night sky. Death drew strength from his presence and from the knowledge that even if they argued, he’d stand beside her, come what may.
“Well,” Death said as the last burst of light from the Sarru’s engines faded. “That is that. We shall hear from her in a little less than two ninenights, I suppose, when she arrives at Capitol. In the meantime, let us go back inside and figure out what we’re going to do with ourselves.”
Blade nodded sharply and twisted around. He moved stiffly, Death noticed. Unlike him.
“We should ensure Mhrand brings all the best kills to you while you gestate,” Flame said, glancing back at Blade. Her ears twitched as if she were considering something, and she sounded as if she were trying to lighten the mood.
“I’ll get my own, thanks,” Death said. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.” Though as she said it, Death’s innards began to roil in their standard evening revolt. She forced herself to breathe through her nose and began walking back toward the entrance to the Den.
“What is your plan, Flame?” Mhrand asked in the awkward silence left by his beloved’s abruptness. He cocked his ears in invitation and started to follow Death’s path. “How long will it take to recover from your injuries?”
“Not long,” the youngest sister answered. “Though Blade would prefer I wait longer before taking my next contract. Even now I’m only slow, not—to use Death’s words—an invalid.” It was not entirely true, but close enough. Flame always considered consequences, and she knew that even at a slightly reduced rate, she could excel as needed.
“Will you seek another contract, then, littlest?” Death asked. She’d stopped just under the edge of the jungle canopy to wait and watched the three of them as they moved toward her. “Or will you abide yet awhile?”
She would have liked to have said that her question was disinterested, but that would be a lie. Sudden hope punched Death in the gut. If Flame and Blade would stay with her for a time, perhaps they would keep her from making some grievous error that would cause the downfall of the clan. Or something like that.
Pausing as they drew even with her elder littermate, Flame leaned her weight more to her unwounded side and used that to brush fondly against Death.
“I will rest a short while and weigh which contracts might best serve our clan.” A flicker of amusement there; of course Flame would carefully consider all options—that had ever been her way.
“And you, Blade?” Death asked. “What will you do? I…well. I don’t want to influence either of you, but…what plans do you have?” She had noticed, of course, that something seemed off with their brother. Perhaps he didn’t wish to speak about it in front of everyone, but if something were wrong, Death felt she needed to know. She was, after all, supposed to be acting as the dama. It was her business to know what bothered her family.
“Stay, for some time at least.” He looked ahead, always scouting the path regardless of how needless it might be. “There will be contracts to sort, and—if that’s helpful to you, of course.” Blade had certainly known he wouldn’t be named heir to their clan. Still, now that it was real, it sat…oddly.
“It is, of course,” she said. “In truth, I’d hoped you would. I could use your counsel. I confess that I’m not feeling at all ready for this. Dama said you would be an asset. Flame, too. I’m glad to know I can count on you both…not that I’d expect differently.” It was so strange. Why was it strange? What was happening here?
“I always knew it would be you, Death, and of course you’ll be ready.” Flame said, her tone slightly too neutral to be only observing the obvious. She gave Blade a sideways look.
Blade’s tail twitched twice before he stilled it.
“Dama makes her choices as carefully as any of us,” he said after a moment, fully meeting Death’s eyes for perhaps the first time since the official announcement. “You have o
ur support.” Much of the tension left his bearing—not all, but enough to be noticeable.
“All of our support,” Mhrand said, leaning against her. In that moment, Death felt torn. On the one flank, she loved and appreciate Mhrand’s unwavering devotion. But on the other, there had been an important moment of connection there between Death and her siblings. Though he was welcome, Mhrand wasn’t quite one of them yet, and it caused a discordant note in the whole process.
“I thank you all,” Death said, trying to ease past the awkwardness. “For now, let’s head back and get something to eat. I’ve been reviewing the clan’s business records, since there’s not much else going on. Fortune grant there won’t be, at least until we hear that Dama’s been safely invested as Peacemaker.”
“Surely you don’t think anything would interfere with that, do you?” Mhrand asked.
“Probably not,” Death said, and for no reason she could name, her eyes were drawn to Blade.
“The council—” Blade began, the stripes around his eyes seeming to ripple as he considered his words, “they…” Another pause, and then he shook his head once, sharply. Clearly, he wanted to think further over what he’d seen before talking about it. Or perhaps it was Mhrand’s presence that stopped him. Either way, he continued on a different track, “They were as interesting as ever. I imagine Dama is prepared.” He met Death’s eyes again, a silent signal that they should talk later.
* * *
Flame paced through the den stretching the bunched muscles down her recovering side. She decided she would take a contract soon—she was mostly recovered and knew their dama would soon be ensconced in her new responsibilities.
Something kept her bound here, though—her sister, or perhaps the changes in her littermates’ dynamics. She had pushed herself to consider if her injury caused her hesitation in taking another contract, but that didn’t seem right. A buzzing sense of restlessness had started to outline her thoughts, and yet she still had not claimed a contract.
Blade and Death had gone out to inform key contractors and contacts of their dama, both sharing updates and continuing to build connections vital to the success of their clan, and though there were surely others still at home somewhere in the den, she didn’t come across them in her wanderings. It gave her time with her thoughts, to consider her next step and try to understand what was holding her back, but for once, introspection and reflection weren’t helping.
Flame made a small noise in the back of her throat and turned her steps toward the main entrance to continue her walk outside. She’d just cleared the cave-like archway that protected the doors when a buzzing from her comm pulled her up short. The notification sound indicated a call that had been generally placed to the den, then routed to her. Though their clan had grown over the years, Flame and her littermates held priority over other Hunters, both for their prowess and their ties to the dama. As the one of her siblings closest to the ping, Flame received the routed call to their clan, though no one she could think of would have run a general call rather than messaged one of them directly.
She accepted the connection and made a sound to indicate her presence, listening to the swell of activity on the other end.
“Night Wind,” an official voice stated briskly, “this is the suborbital station.”
Intrigued enough to push away her restlessness, she continued her walk outside of the den, though at a slower pace than she’d begun. “This is Silent Flame,” she said, knowing her name would be on record for her clan, and the Hunter calling wouldn’t know who the general call had gone to.
“Silent Flame, your clan has a visitor.” A slight decrease in the crispness of his tone, knowing he wasn’t speaking directly with the dama.
“A visitor.” They weren’t expecting anyone. Off-worlders, rare as they were, stayed in the city around the starport. Hunters messaged directly if they had some reason to go to another clan’s den. Flame could think of no reason someone working at the transport station would call her rather than forcibly rebuff some other being attempting to leave the city.
“From the Peacemaker’s office. Says she’s to report to Night Wind den, and nowhere else.”
Flame’s slight interest deepened fully into curiosity. Her dama couldn’t have sent someone so soon after arriving. In all likelihood, Reow had yet to be invested in her new position, meaning the current Peacekeeper, soon to be their Governor, would have sent her. No one but a Hunter could leave the city of Khatash, except for a Peacemaker, or someone on Peacemaker orders. Why would Peacemaker Hrusha send someone to their den, rather than simply waiting on Reow’s arrival? It didn’t make sense, and Flame wouldn’t let a mystery wait for her littermates to return.
“Put her on a transport. I’ll meet her at our station.” She’d already been moving in that general direction, and by the time a non-Hunter had been cleared through to a ship and arrived at the station, Flame would be there to meet her.
She could decide what to do with the stranger then.
* * *
The station was small, with a warren of rooms and mostly automated systems. Given the specialized traffic of their area, there was little needed here. A room for pilots to rest, if necessary, storage for fueling, a communication hub in case of emergency, some perches in case one had to wait. Few ever came out this way, other than Hunters coming home and heading out, or contacts delivering something face to face. Flame didn’t bother going outside, choosing to stay close to the exterior wall and watch the shuttle land.
She dropped to all four legs to provide stabilization for her weakened side, and she considered pulling her quintessence field close to study their unexpected guest uninterrupted. After a breath she dismissed the thought—it would be rude to hide from someone on Peacemaker orders, and unnecessary to boot. Her natural stealth was flawless enough for her to pass under nearly any species’ notice without needing to become actually invisible.
The shuttle opened to release only one figure, and Flame sat back on her rear legs.
A Human.
Not many Humans made their way to Khatash, and only one that she knew of had ever moved outside of the city. Perhaps no other Human but Susa had ever been welcomed to a Hunter’s den, and now Night Wind would have both Humans to step foot in the jungle.
Flame slipped around the corner soundlessly, melting into the shaded cover and studying the approaching visitor.
Nothing like Susa, for all they were both Human females. Susa radiated warmth and love, intelligence and sweetness, a combination uniquely hers. This Human was taller, more tightly wound, her furless skin darker than Susa’s. Her hair was coiled close to her head like an angry tail, her clothes the sort of form-fitting no-nonsense uniform that marked Human fighters or those who wished to be seen as such.
The Human moved easily, aware of her surroundings and wary enough to show she had sense. Flame slid back out of the cover, walking on her rear legs, and moved into the Human’s eyeline. The woman noticed her almost immediately and didn’t startle. A credit to her species.
“What brings you here today?” Flame asked once the Human had reached an audible range.
“I’m on Peacemaker orders,” the woman replied, not knowing her arrival had been called ahead. She halted and took a position somewhere between fighter attention and casual lounging. “Is this the Night Wind clan home?”
“Which Peacemaker?” she asked, the humor faint in her tone. The question she ignored for the moment. “You are?”
“Tamir Alcuin, contracted to Depik Peacemaker Hrusha. And you?” There was some wariness in the woman’s voice, though Flame would not have registered it without a long history with a Human.
She softened her body language, communicating she was not feeling predatory. “Silent Flame. Our dama recently arrived at Capitol to meet Peacemaker Hrusha.” Again, she wondered why Hrusha had sent an aide rather than simply waited for Reow’s arrival, given the timing.
A small huff of impatience answered that, though Tamir didn’t let anyt
hing register on her face. “I missed her then. Silent Flame, may I seek rest in your den?”
She’d certainly learned something about Khatash, though she used the galactic species term ‘Depik,’ rather than the more natural term ‘Hunters.’ Flame regarded her another long moment, taking in the Human’s tension and alertness, and wondering at it.
“We will share shelter,” she replied, not quite fully welcoming the Human in with all privileges, but allowing for safety and at least a short stay of companionship. “It is a walk to our den, if you are willing?”
The woman Tamir glanced back at the station building, something wry passing across her face, but she only nodded.
They had walked in silence for several minutes before Flame voiced the question she’d had since the suborbital official had called. “I am surprised the Peacemaker thought to find our dama still here.”
A hesitation, which told Flame that perhaps Tamir was wondering the same thing, and then Tamir shook her head slightly, and they continued walking, the clearing around that station replaced by the endlessly stretching trunks of the jungle’s anchor trees and the spirals of vegetation.
“Is your den in the canopy?” Tamir asked, with a cautious glance above them. Between them and the lowest level of the canopy were countless predators and prey, enough for a diverting afternoon for Flame and half a dozen painful deaths for Tamir.
Flame contented herself with a noncommittal noise, deciding they could both be unhelpful, and continued to lead her guest deeper into the greenish-gold light of the jungle.
The walk remained uneventful, the path trod often enough that Khatash’s non-sentient species knew to be wary of the Hunters. Flame took them on a spiraling path away from the main entrance as they approached the cliff face, for no other reason than she wanted to, given Tamir would have no way of knowing where or what anything was beyond tree, stone, path, greenery.